


And now I'm out of the race

by Ciara_in_cotton_socks



Series: Different [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Nursey, Caitlin Farmer is a good bro too, Chowder gives the best cuddles, Chris Chow is a good bro, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Dex needs a hug, Dex thinks too much, F/M, He needs a hug too, I'm Sorry Dex, M/M, Pining, Poor Dex, Protective Chris, Realization, Unrequited Love, canon-typical alcohol use, hugs for everyone, no happy endings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciara_in_cotton_socks/pseuds/Ciara_in_cotton_socks
Summary: It happens like this:They hate each other on principle, or at least Will does, until he doesn’t anymore and the things that used to make him angry make him completely, unbearably fond.And by then it’s too late.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'Different' by The Academic.
> 
> This is my first time dipping my toe into the Check, Please! fandom and I've done so by hurting my favourite prickly little redhead. I love him really. I promise I do!

It happens like this:

 

They hate each other on principle, or at least Will does.  Derek Malik Nurse is everything he has learned to dislike over the years- entitled, pretentious and far too comfortable in his own skin.  He wears sweaters that cost more than Will’s entire wardrobe and listens to music nobody else likes because nobody else likes it.  He is eternally unfazed, and that’s the very worst thing about him; insults and chirps just roll off his back like his skin is impervious to them.  It doesn’t seem to matter to him that Will can’t stand him- he still resolutely squashes into the seat next to him on roadies, even though he must realise that he’s signing himself up for several hours of slights on his lifestyle choices.

 

William Poindexter has never denied the fact that he’s an asshole.  In fact, he quite enjoys it.  Being an asshole means there’s a wall between him and people who try to get under his skin.  People like Nursey.  It’s easier not to let people like that get close, easier to avoid them seeing things that will give them further fuel to hurt him.

 

Chowder thinks Will is an idiot.  He tells him so approximately once a day, entirely without malice.  It’s a statement of fact.

 

______________________

 

“You’re an idiot,” Chowder says cheerfully when Will snorts his rejection of Nursey’s offer to come with him to some horrendous foreign film at a tiny cinema the other side of Samwell that doesn’t even serve popcorn.  Will pokes his tongue out at him, ever mature, as Chowder scoops up his things to chase after Nursey.  “I’ll come Nursey!”

 

Will rolls his eyes and goes back to eating his omelette.

 

______________________

 

“You’re an idiot,” Chowder tells him six months later, lying on Will’s bed with his head hanging over the foot so that his face begins to turn beetroot.  Will, absorbed in his assignment, nods his agreement vaguely.  He’s clearly not listening, so Chowder throws a shoe at him.  “You are!  Nursey’s really trying, why can’t you do the same?”

 

Will snorts.  “C, give me a break.  Offering to show me how to meditate is not _trying._ It’s just Nursey’s passive-aggressive way of telling me I have anger issues.”

 

Chowder looks like he wants to agree with Nursey, conspicuous by his absence, but thinks better of it and shrugs.

 

“Seems like an olive branch to me,” he shrugs, then sits up and sets about texting someone Will hopes is Farmer.  Sometimes he thinks Chowder talks to Nursey about him as much as he talks to Will about Nursey, and he doesn’t like it.  Will stares blankly at his assignment and tries not to ponder the validity of Nursey’s offer.  The thought of sitting cross-legged in the dark with only Nursey and his own mind for company is pretty deplorable anyway.

 

______________________

 

“You’re an idiot,” Chowder tells him kindly at the first kegster of their sophomore year, his face a little pink from a combination of a couple of Natty Lights and the makeout session with Farmer which Will wishes he hadn’t walked in on ten minutes ago.  The pair of them are standing by the wall, heads bobbing awkwardly to Holster’s Katy Perry megamix, watching the madness unfold.  It feels weird to be just a duo now, relations with Nursey having thawed to the point where Will can actually stand being in his presence for prolonged periods of time without saying something scathing. 

 

But Nursey is evidently too busy for still-frogs-dammit-Bitty bonding time, if the way he’s hanging off some WASPy looking guy from his English class is anything to go by.

 

“I just didn’t realise Nursey was into guys, that’s all!” Will argues defensively, because he’s already dealt with enough shit for that stupid sticker on his laptop, thank you very much.  Next to him, Chowder shrugs.

 

“Nursey’s into feeling wanted,” he says, almost sadly.  “I don’t think he’s very used to it, the way he talks about Andover.”

 

“Oh,” Will says lamely, because WASPy English Guy is kissing Nursey’s neck as he leads him out the door and suddenly the room feels far too hot and Will downs his cup of tub juice way too fast, only because he needs to cool down.

 

______________________

 

“You’re an idiot,” Chowder says softly.  It’s February of their junior year, and Will’s sleeping on his floor again because Nursey’s occupying the attic with his latest maybe-significant other.  Maya has blue hair and piercings in places that make Will’s eyes water and is entirely too lovely for it to be fair.  Someone that pretty and smart shouldn’t be allowed to be _nice_ too.  “If it bothers you so much, tell him.  Maya’s got a room, I’m sure they can use hers sometimes, y’know.”

 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Will counters automatically, and Chowder raises his eyebrows but has the sense not to say anything.  Instead, he just cues up the next episode of _Parks and Rec_ \- Holster had bequeathed the maintenance of superior sitcom viewing upon him when he’d graduated, and it is a task Chowder treats with great reverence- and shoves the bag of popcorn into Will’s hands.  “It really doesn’t.  It’s just- they’re always _together_ , man.”

 

“They’re dating, Dex,” Chowder points out unhelpfully.  “That’s kinda how it works.”

 

“Yeah, I know, but it’s... like, they’re _always_ together, C.  Nursey doesn’t have time for us anymore.”  The words sound petty and childish out loud, and Will sort of wishes he hadn’t said them but is also sort of glad he did because they’ve been rattling around his brain for weeks now and it’s been making him feel a bit crazy.  Will stuffs some popcorn into his mouth and tries to ignore the sensation of Chowder’s eyes on him.  “I dunno, we’ve been getting on so well since we moved into the attic, I guess I don’t really want that to change.  I kinda like spending time with Nursey now, and now that I like it we don’t get to do it anymore.”

 

“You could just tell him that,” says Chowder sagely, bumping their shoulders together.  “It might help.  I mean, once you guys told me the only thing I ever talked about was Cait and it made you want to throttle me I cooled it a bit, right?”

 

“Oh, barely,” Will chirps, because the two of them are as besotted as ever, but his words hold no real vitriol.  Farmer makes Chowder’s face light up like he’s got his own personal sun warming him from the inside and Will’s not enough of an asshole to begrudge him that.  He wonders vaguely if Maya makes Nursey warm like that, and shudders.  He doesn’t know why.  Then he thinks about Farmer again, and how he’s been spending every night in Chowder’s room for the past two weeks, and he feels bad.  “I should sleep on the couch tonight.  You and Farms haven’t been spending much time together the last couple of weeks, huh?”

 

Chowder shakes his head. 

 

“It’s cool, Dex.  Bro-time is awesome,” he says with a grin, and throws his arms around him in a bone-crushing cuddle.  If it was anyone but Chowder, Will would try to wriggle away.  But Chowder is warm with Farmer-sunlight and Will’s bones are too cold these days, so he closes his eyes and buries his face in Chowder’s Sharks hoodie.

 

______________________

 

A month later, Will and Chowder sit on the tiles of the attic bathroom, Nursey propped in between them moaning pitifully.  Maya is gone, without door-slamming or yelling or things thrown in anger, and they had come back from evening classes to find Nursey in the backyard, barefoot and spilling bourbon down his front.

 

He’s puked twice already and there’s snot on his chin from all the crying he’s been doing and Will wishes fervently that he could just disappear.

 

“It’s OK Nursey, we’re here, we’re not going anywhere,” Chowder keeps cooing, trying unsuccessfully to calm him down like he’s been doing for the last hour.  Will is looking at his shoelaces, because seeing Nursey’s face all contorted by sadness makes him uncomfortable.

 

“She doesn’t want me anymore,” Nursey mumbles into Chowder’s shoulder, his voice awash with misery.  It makes Will clench his fists and try not to think about punching a girl with blue hair who breaks hearts too big for her to deserve.  “Nobody ever wants me for very long.”

 

“We do,” says Chowder firmly, far better at this consoling business than he has any right to be.  Will wishes he could be like that, but every time he thinks of something kind to say it gets stuck in his throat and makes him wheeze.  He watches Chowder tug Nursey’s chin up so that he has to look at him.  “You, Derek Nurse, are made of awesome.  It’s not your fault she’s too blind to see that.”

 

Nursey responds with a whimper and slips sideways so that Will has to make a lucky dive to stop him from cracking his head against the toilet seat.

 

“OK, bedtime,” he says before Nursey can do any more damage.  Chowder nods fervently and between them they manage to haul Nursey upright.  He’s heavy and uncooperative but somehow they manage to drop him unceremoniously on the bottom bunk, where he curls up small and hides his face in Will’s pillow.  Will sees his shoulders shake and puts a hand on his back, which stills him.

 

“Why’m I in your bed Dexy?” comes his quiet, muffled croak, and Will can’t help the fond smile that flickers across his face to match Chowder’s for a moment.

 

“So you don’t fall off the top bunk and break your neck,” he says.  Chowder looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t and Will is grateful.

 

“But where’ll you sleep?”  Nursey rolls over to look at him, forehead crumpled in confusion.  Will shrugs.

 

“Your bed, I guess.”

 

“But you don’ like heights.”

 

“Floor then.  It’s OK Nursey, I don’t mind.”

 

Nursey scoots closer to the wall and pats the vacant spot next to him.  Will’s ears go red.

 

“Nurse, seriously, floor’s fine.”

 

Nursey bites his lip.  “I just thought... Don’t really want to be on my own... ‘S silly, forget it.”

 

Will climbs into bed next to him, close enough that he can count every one of Nursey’s stupidly long eyelashes.  Chowder makes a noise that might be a squeal.

 

“Frog slumber party!” he says excitedly, before immediately swallowing a yawn that Nursey is too drunk to detect but Will is not.  He waves a hand at their goalie.

 

“Go get some sleep C, Farmer’ll be waiting for you,” he says.  Beside him, Nursey is already drifting off.  “I can keep an eye on Nursey.  Promise I won’t throttle him, as long as he doesn’t puke on me.”

 

“Dexy,” Nursey mumbles sleepily, his face fitting into the curve of Will’s neck.  Will looks down at him, at how broken he is, and has to clench his fists to suppress all the words he wants to use to describe Maya, words that would make Chowder blush fire-engine red.  Instead, he runs his hand up and down Nursey’s arm.

 

“You are wanted Nursey,” he says quietly even though the other boy is already asleep or as close to it as it gets.  “You are, just because she didn’t want you doesn’t mean other people don’t.”

 

In the doorway, Chowder sighs and turns out the light.

 

“You’re an idiot,” he whispers to Will in the darkness, and once he’s gone Will strokes poor Nursey’s hair and nods with a lump in his throat.  He really is.

 

______________________

 

Nursey and Maya get back together in April, and once again Will finds himself curled up next to Chowder in his bedroom, leaning unhappily on his shoulder and generally wallowing in his own idiocy. 

 

“She makes him happy,” he says for the umpteenth time, as though saying the words out loud will make the knowledge hurt less.  It doesn’t.  “They’re perfect together.  He’s happy again, that’s good, right?”

 

Chowder makes a noncommittal noise.  In the armchair next to the bed, Farmer stretches out so her foot touches Will’s bare ankle.  It’s a show of solidarity that he ought to appreciate but can’t find the energy to.

 

“He might be happy,” Farmer says, not unkindly.  “But you’re not.”

 

“I’m fine,” says Will.  He thinks maybe if he says it enough he’ll believe it.  “I’m happy when Nursey’s happy.”

 

“You’re an idiot,” says Chowder, but it’s a faint whisper and it’s accompanied by another one of his patented cuddles, the ones Will’s been using as a crutch since last Tuesday when he came back to the Haus to find Nursey and Maya at the kitchen table sharing the last slice of Bitty’s blueberry pie.  Will feels Farmer hit the cuddle from the other side and knows that a weaker man than him would cry about now.  But William Poindexter learned to be strong a long time ago, and he’s not going to stop now just because it feels like his bones have finally frozen over and are splintering apart one of Nursey-and-Maya’s ‘I love you’s at a time.

 

“I know I am,” he mumbles, thawing a little due to Chowder and Farmer’s sunlight-warmth, and if there’s a slight wobble in his voice nobody mentions it.  Will is as close to glad as he can be, given the situation.

 

______________________

 

It happens like this:

 

They hate each other on principle, or at least Will does, until he doesn’t anymore and the things that used to make him angry make him completely, unbearably fond.

 

And by then it’s too late.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry if you're mad at me, I am too. In my head, I'm withstanding the Chris Chow Goalie Face right now.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome!


End file.
